


Worth [Wolfsong]

by sassycatpants



Series: Wolfsong [1]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Fenrir AU, Gen, M/M, Rufus and his childhood tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-07
Updated: 2015-05-07
Packaged: 2018-03-29 10:45:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3893461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sassycatpants/pseuds/sassycatpants
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>”And what makes you think, Rufus ShinRa, that a god would ever choose <strong>you</strong>?”</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worth [Wolfsong]

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my Rufus partner, essentiallyroyal on tumblr; it's a oneshot set in the Wolfsong universe, though the actual story hasn't been posted/written yet. Wolfsong is basically my Fenrir AU that's been posted a bunch of versions in the Snipsnaps collection -- I finally decided on an official version of the AU and am making plans to write it, haha. There's a few bits and pieces of the original random snippets pulled and blended into this verse, but the majority of information those snippets have ended up being dropped.

Rufus has never held faith in the gods.

_ {”It’s  **that**  boy – “ “The one without a god?” “Where – “ “Shh! Not so loud, he might hear you – “ _

_ “Such a fine looking boy, Mr. President. Pity about his  **condition**  – “ “Yes, well. I knew from the moment he was born that he wouldn’t amount to much. My other boy though, he lives with his mother; he’s a fine lad. Chosen by Odin, even! I was thinking of bringing – “  
_

_ “I hear he’s doomed to die young. He’s such a polite child, it’s so sad. I really feel sorry for the President. Not only is his son ignored by the gods, but his poor wife, so frail! The shock of the boy not being chosen – well, it’s what killed Cathryn, the poor dear…”}  
_

He doesn’t know why he isn’t chosen, and slowly, he stops caring. There are no attempts at winning his father’s affections, no hopes for the man’s pride. His father’s attention wanes, focusing more and more often on Lazard as time moves on, and despite the resentment festering under his skin he takes the escape that it unintentionally offers.

If he can’t make his father proud, then he’ll make  _himself_  proud instead.

* * *

He’s handed off to the Turks when he is eight -- the only explanation is a hurried, “I’m too busy to hold your hand anymore, boy, so you’re being given bodyguards. Stay in the Tower and don’t get into trouble.” A keycard is shoved into his hands, access to all but the most restricted of floors, and his father is gone before Rufus can wrap his head around what’s just happened.

Tseng clears his throat as Rufus stares up at him blank faced and expectant, and the Turk can’t help the small smile that flits across his face for less than a second.

He can feel it in his bones -- the boy may lack a patron, but Rufus is destined for greatness.

* * *

“Congratulations on the promotion, sir.” Tseng’s voice is carefully neutral, even as Rufus gives an undignified snort but otherwise doesn’t reply. They both know he was never intended for this seat -- but Lazard’s betrayal and murder of their father had made any other outcome impossible, and Rufus is unsure how he feels.

“’Promotion’,” he says finally, all dry amusement. Pride in himself and his own accomplishments were all that he had, and he had done nothing to earn this office -- he’s won it by  _default_ , and it feels surprisingly like defeat.

(Everyone expects him to fail, the boy without a god unworthy for the honor he’s been handed. He doesn’t think he can prove himself worthy.)

* * *

Rufus has never held faith in the gods.

_ [Cloud Strife’s smile is slow and filled with promises that he would never keep. ”And what makes you think, Rufus ShinRa, that a god would ever choose  **you**?” _

_ “Will I never be good enough then, Cloud Strife?” _

_ Cloud laughs, reaching out to thread his fingers through the fur of the wolf by his side. “I was never good enough either, you know. Not for the gods who bound me, and not for the tiny humans who were unable to comprehend what I truly was.”  He leans forward across the desk, reaching out to press fingers to the other male’s cheek in a moment of faux gentleness. _

_ “Perhaps, Rufus, it is they who are not worthy of  **us**.” _ _ ] _

But then, they’ve never held any faith in him either.


End file.
